The Comfort of One's Screen

By JULIE SCELFO

Published: December 22, 2011

AFTER nightfall on Tuesday, the Darvick family of Birmingham, Mich., began their Hanukkah rituals, just as they had done for years.

Debra and Martin Darvick set out a tin menorah given to them by long-gone relatives. Their son, Elliot, 27, struck a match and lighted the first candle. And his sister, Emma, 24, joined in a prayer.

But the Darvicks celebrated this centuries-old tradition with a modern twist -- the family was in three different cities across the country, but connected by Skype.

''We call it Skypanukkah,'' Elliot said of the family's second year of using the service's video chat. ''Being able to use Skype on a holiday allows me to basically build a memory with my family that I couldn't have otherwise.''

Though Skype is now eight years old, the software -- and others like it, including Apple's FaceTime and Google chat -- has become a regular fixture in a growing number of American homes, providing new ways for families to stay connected in an age where generations are less likely to gather around the table on Sunday afternoons to share a meal.

There are the familiar uses, of course -- nieces performing dance routines for their aunts, brothers showing off holiday decorations to cousins, and grandparents meeting new grandchildren, despite being separated by hundreds or thousands of miles.

Yet as Skype becomes a part of everyday life, far-flung families are opening birthday gifts together, reading bedtime stories and even providing brief moments of child care. And rather than just making video calls to catch up, people are using them to share experiences that would otherwise require a plane ticket.

With the proliferation of built-in cameras and microphones on computers and mobile devices, broadband connections and program refinements, an average of 300 million minutes of Skype video calls are made a day globally, an increase of about 900 percent from 2007, according to data provided by the company. Many more calls are made using other popular software programs, like FaceTime and Google chat.

During peak time, Sunday morning in the United States, 30 million people are logged into their Skype account, with half a million simultaneously making video calls, the company said.

This summer, when Jamie Van Houton, 28, moved from Riverside, Calif., to Ohio six months into her pregnancy, her best friend, Tasha Montgomery, 33, worried that her friend would feel lonely in the run-up to childbirth.

''They really didn't know anyone out there,'' Ms. Montgomery said.

In July, Ms. Montgomery decided to give a baby shower using video chat, and enlisted mutual friends in Riverside to bake a brunch dish and join them for the party.

''We set her up on the mantel so she could see everybody,'' said Ms. Montgomery, who had mailed Ms. Van Houton a paper banner beforehand. ''We had expected the party to be two or two-and-a-half hours, and people ended up hanging out, talking for four or five hours. It was great.''

Ms. Van Houton, who hung the banner behind her so that guests could see it, said she was surprised at how lively her high-tech shower turned out to be.

''I had thought, 'Oh, this will be fun, but it's not the same as being there,' '' Ms. Van Houton said. ''But it turned out to be even better,'' she said, explaining how friends also took turns talking to her. ''I got to connect with everybody one-on-one, more so than if I was there.''

Skype and other similar programs seem custom-built to ease feelings of separation during celebrations and holidays.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas last year, Jessica Hunt, 37, who lives in Eugene, Ore., grew increasingly sad that she and her two children were unable to spend the holiday at her parents' home in Durand, Wis.

''I felt like such a baby,'' said Ms. Hunt, who had separated from her husband several months earlier. ''I'm almost 40, and this was the first Christmas I hadn't been home.''

So they opened presents by Skype instead, and Ms. Hunt said she and her children fell into an easy rhythm.

When her brother and his family unwrapped a large gift from his parents -- what turned out to be a new set of luggage to be used for a coming vacation with Ms. Hunt -- her spirits lifted.

''It sounds super-cheesy, but it reminded me they were coming and it wasn't far away,'' she said. ''And it was all O.K.''

She also noticed another advantage of sharing the holidays over the computer.

''It was the first Christmas where I didn't feel rushed,'' she said. ''I didn't have to travel or worry about packing up the kids. It relieved a lot of stress.''

Video chat is adding more retirees to its fan base, as more senior centers offer classes to teach the elderly how to boot up, sign up and log in.

Elaine Welin, 64, a retired technologist who keeps a laptop on her dining room table near a crocheted doily and a scented candle, often uses the service to drink her morning coffee with one of several friends who live in the same town.

''I get a kick out of that,'' said Ms. Welin, who teaches Skype classes at the L. E. Phillips Senior Center in Eau Claire, Wis. ''We'll sit and sip our coffee and just chat. They'll say 'What are you wearing Elaine?' And I'll say 'Don't look! It's just my old bathrobe.' ''

This article has been revised to reflect the following correction: A picture caption last Thursday with an article about the role of video chat services in family life misstated the surname of a Manhattan woman who uses such a service to keep in touch with her nephew. She is Tamra Sanford, not Sandford.